My Lady Amell
by welseykels
Summary: With the encouragement of Warden-Commander Cousland, Alistair Theirin assumed the Ferelden throne after the end of the Blight. Feeling the pressure to marry and produce heirs, Alistair allows Arl Eamon to throw a ball for the purpose of finding his Queen. An AU where Mira Amell was never taken to The Kinloch Hold Circle Tower and remained a noble woman in Kirkwall, the Amell family
1. Chapter 1

If Alistair had to hear one more Bann proposition him with their daughter's hand in marriage he was going to resurrect the Archdemon himself and bring back the bloody blight.

He was King, he understood that a queen and heirs were expected. He did. It had been burrowed into his brain through countless meetings with Arl Eamon over the course of the one year since he had taken his throne. Burrowed. Absolutely burrowed in there. Maker forbid that the mighty Theirin bloodline end after four ages. Maker forbid it end with the Bastard King, already a stain on such a noble house.

He still had that silly notion in his mind that he could one day marry for love. Not that it would be likely that he would be able to now. But it was a notion he clung to nonetheless. The last scraps of the Alistair who had wanted to stay some Warden who'd been too lucky to die at Ostagar. Not that he would have been encouraged to marry as a Warden… or have children…

 _But King Alistair Theirin would be expected to do both._

And so he was at Eamon's mercy, at the mercy of his politics, at the mercy of his country's need for a continued line of rule - lest another succession crisis occur.

Eamon and Teagan had dreamt up an idea to find him a bride after several long meetings with him. They would invite Southern Thedas' most eligible noble ladies for a ball. The ones he - no, the ones that Eamon preferred - would be invited to stay longer, until he choose to officially begin courting one.

Tonight felt more like a parade, each woman dipping in a curtsy before him, drawling out ' _your majesty_ ' as seductively as possible before she was gone once more. He didn't get to know any of the ladies, too busy with Eamon and Teagan making sure he met each of of their fathers and mothers, planning alliances should their daughter be chosen for Ferelden. He didn't like the schmoozing, he didn't like the thought of a woman to simply wanting him for his crown, for the power they imagined he held.

 _Was it too much to ask that someone like him for him? To love him simply as Alistair?_

 _Blighted politics._ Liam could have helped him navigate them, Maker, he would have been a better choice for a King. He'd grown up in this world, grown up as the second son of a powerful Teryn. Alistair had grown up in the stables and kennels of Redcliffe, hardly a place to learn to be king.

 _King of the mabaris, maybe._

But instead, Liam had decided that Alistair would be the better choice for Ferelden. The Maker only knew why. He was growing to enjoy some aspects of his kingship, that he couldn't deny. He loved helping his people, was thrilled by the aspect of helping his homeland heal after such devastation. But Liam should have been here with him, together they could have done twice as much good. And where was his blighted best friend when he needed him desperately?

 _Oh right, he'd disappeared without a trace… with Morrigan._

William Cousland would certainly be of no help to him now.

He slouched down on the throne, resting his elbow on the arm of the wood and fur monstrosity, and settling his chin upon his fist. Would Wintersend never end? It seemed only fitting that the holiday dedicated to the corrupted Old God he'd had a hand in defeating was the one plaguing him presently. In Tevinter, he could have spent the day in the Proving Grounds, participating in a tourney, feeling like the old Alistair. The Alistair whose time wasn't devoured by meetings, audiences, and banquets. The Alistair who could risk bodily harm for a bit of bloody fun. But no, he had no heir… so he couldn't spar, couldn't train, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything that Warden Alistair could have done whenever he damn well pleased.

But no, in Southern Thedas it was a day for arranging marriages. And so Eamon meant to find him a bride. _Maker help him. Maker help whichever poor young woman fell into the Arl's plan._

His eyes drifted round the main hall, seeking anything to pass the time. He fell back on an old habit that had kept him occupied during his days within the Chantry. He'd choose one person from the crowd, creating a backstory for them simply from his imagination and any clues he could find on their person. It amused him for a short while, but eventually each story either became 'wants to be the Queen' or 'want their family to be related to the Queen'. Tonight was not going well it seemed.

Teagan came to his side shortly after, more than likely catching the way Alistair was glowering and Alistair suspected his adoptive uncle would reprimand him for it sooner rather than later. But inside the younger Guerrin brother simple stood, watching the crowds with him for a few moments in silence before a grin turned up a side of his lips. "See anyone to your liking, your Majesty?"

"Does it matter if I do?"

A laugh from the older man. "Once this portion of the evening is over, you'll be expected to dance with each of the young ladies, before your decision is made. Hopefully that will help you, Alistair."

"How many more families do I have to meet?"

Teagan's brow furrowed for a moment as he surveyed the crows. "I believe that there is only one family left. The pair of brunettes with their backs to us by Arl Bryland, I think that is them."

A sigh. "And who are they exactly?"

"Those two… they are from Kirkwall's Amell family. Their uncle was Aristide Amell, former Viscount of Kirkwall. Now it is assumed that the elder of the pair, Gavin, will assume his uncle's title now that he's recently passed. The lady with him is his sister, but I… I cannot recall her name."

As if he'd heard his own name… which seemed ridiculous given that he was halfway across the main hall, Gavin Amell turned, heading towards the front of the hall where Alistair sat. He could catch glimpses of the sister, the woman much shorter than her sibling and disappearing often between the clusters of taller nobility.

He was barely able to get a look at them before she was dropping into a curtsy and he into a sweeping bow. Gavin stood first, a wide grin greeting Alistair.

"May I present my sister, Lady Mira Amell."

She lifted her head from her curtsy, her green eyes finding his.

 _Oh_.


	2. Chapter 2

Mira certainly didn't like that they had to leave Kirkwall for Ferelden. Not that Kirkwall was any better presently. With the tensions rising between the Lords now that her Uncle was dead, the mounting threat of the Qunari, and with the horror stories she and Gavin had been hearing from The Gallows, it was best not to linger there. Many of Kirkwall had no idea, they only knew with the return of their cousins, the Hawkes, who had ventured near the Gallows themselves.

Maker only knew what would await them if Knight-Commander Meredith decided to make an extended visit at the Amell estate, gauging if Gavin would be the same sort of man as their uncle, one who bowed so easily to her and her beliefs.

She would be sorely disappointed if she did, Gavin was no such man.

The Lords would not assemble until later in Bloomingtide, several months off, giving Gavin ample time to find backers for his bid for the highest position Kirkwall could offer him, if he was to oppose Meredith. And that was what had brought them to Ferelden after receiving the invitation to Denerim. Even if they weren't expressly interested in finding a marriage bed for Mira, they took the chance they could find with the palace's open doors, a crown on her head more powerful than none.

Allying with the King of Ferelden, who had begun to give mages the power to govern themselves? He would be a powerful ally should Gavin continue down the road he was already travelling. Not only that, but this would more than likely be the largest gathering of dignitaries and nobility outside The Grand Tourney. The Tourney itself would not fall until after the Lords met to decide the new Viscount, leaving them with this ball as their only option. This would be their chance to gain as much a following as they could. Their plans could shape the very face of Southern Thedas if they succeeded.

They had to impress. Gavin specifically.

Aristide Amell, when he lay near death, had told her that she would be better suited than her elder brother for his high seat, but being the figurehead of Kirkwall politics was not for her. Even if she had the sense for it, she preferred spending her days away from the nobility she had already spent her life around.

Instead, she spent her days by the docks. Tending to those who remained stranded outside the city. She brought what food she could with her, offering that to what refugees she could. With the stresses of little food, little coin, little shelter, there were inevitably fights that broke out, leaving Mira to offer her services discreetly as a healer as well. It pained her each day to see these people without a home, without a country that would take them in if they couldn't pay their way into it. Her first week down there a year ago had her returning that night and pleading with her uncle to send some sort of aid. But he'd refused. And she knew then that Meredith had already spoke of the dangers of the Fereldens on their doorstep, that her uncle was wrapped around her iron-clad finger.

But with Gavin as the Viscount, things could change.

Her cousin, Sofia Hawke, had offered to check on the families she had gotten to know for her while she was in Ferelden, Anders leaving his clinic a day a week to help those at the docks that needed medical aid. She was grateful for her cousin and friend, feeling a little less troubled about leaving those who depended on her behind, for Maker knew how long she would be gone if things went well.

She could content herself with thoughts of her homeland's potential brighter future for the time being, otherwise she was going to lose her mind if she had to hear Gavin list of the various exports and holdings their family held once more. That was torture. The only thing the noble families in attendance wanted to know was how much they were worth, how much power they held, if they were a threat to their own daughter's or sister's or niece's bid for Queenship. And so, Gavin was left to repeat the same speech over and over.

Even the King's advisor, Arl Eamon, had had no time for anyone by Gavin, barely acknowledging her with a nod before the two were discussing how the Amells could benefit their southern neighbours. Gavin had a silver tongue, that was certain, the Arl seeming content to have met them, pleasant the entire conversation, but he'd moved onto the next grouping all the same, the same predatory smile as he'd had when he greeted them.

If this is what his entourage was like, what would the King himself be like? She could barely get a glimpse of him where he sat at the far end of the hall. _Blasted Dog Lords, why were they all so tall?_

Would King Alistair care about his people who lacked the coin to venture back across the Waking Sea? Would he care about the horrors occurring to Harrowed mages and apprentices alike under Meredith's leadership? Or would he only be worried about what _they_ could do for _him_?

And then she turned her head to catch him slump on his throne as the crowd parted just enough around her, his chin moving to rest on the hand he had propped on the large chair's arm. He was certainly handsome, that she couldn't deny. She'd heard that the Hero of Ferelden was more so, but she had a hard time imagining that to be true. Short ginger hair surrounded his golden crown, furs and richly coloured fabrics adorning his deliciously broad shoulders, and strong masculine facial features that were attractive even if he was scowling at the moment.

It gave her a little hope, if he was just as disappointed in this gathering as she… perhaps he wasn't as bad as his advisors afterall. But that would still remain to be seen.

She smoothed imagined wrinkles on her dress, keeping her hands occupied as Gavin spoke to the next new face that could either help them in the future, or disappear from their lives after this evening, never to be thought of again. Tonight she was dressed in what her family had taken to calling 'Amell Red', the dress fitting snugly on her curves, more snugly than she'd cared. Sofia had made her bring it with her, had convinced her that this would be the dress that caught attention. A king's attention. Mira didn't care for it at all, seeing only the lumps and bumps the dress revealed in her looking glass. Sofia had assured her that she was merely imagining them, but that didn't stop her from seeing them. She would be more than happy to not be noticed, was more than comfortable when she wasn't the centre of things.

She marveled at the women who were here for the chance of being Queen, who wanted all this attention. She pitied them somewhat… to want a man simply because of the power he wielded? She found that though difficult to imagine. And yet here she was, at the ready to sacrifice love, the freedoms of her life not burdened by the noble court, and perhaps her maidenhead if it came to it, if it meant helping her home and securing a new ally.

But she highly doubted that she would even turn the King's head, that he would even bat an eyelash in her direction. Looking around her at the beautiful women had her worried about her chances of even staying beyond the night to allow their chances to better. For the invitation had said that only a select few ladies and their families would stay beyond the first night, those who held the most potential of ruling Ferelden at the King's side. Maker, she would need a miracle for her to be the chosen one from the hall full of eligible brides.

But then Gavin's head turned suddenly, a grin forming on his lips as he murmured to her that now was her time. He politely bid farewell to the man he'd been speaking to, taking Mira's arm in his own as they made their way across the main hall.

She knew her hands were trembling, the reality that an alliance could end before it even began resting solely on her shoulders. She could feel the chill that ran through her, before it settled in her fingers. She knew Gavin could feel the drop in temperature through his dress jacket when he cast a glance at her and whispered, "Meer, not now. Deep breaths, control it."

She followed his instruction, breathing in deeply before releasing it, praying silently to Andraste and the Maker that no one could see the frost on the tips of her fingernails. With each breath it disappeared more and more, gone completely by the time they reached the front of the hall.

She dropped into a curtsey the moment they stood before him. Gavin moving into a bow of his own as he released her arm. She wasn't prepared to see the disappointment in the King's eyes just yet.

"May I present my sister, Lady Mira Amell."

And then she lifted from her curtsy, her head rising as his brown eyes found hers.

 _Oh._


End file.
